


Love Him

by thecomebackkids99



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: A little angst, F/M, Felicity's been watching too much Tangled, Hugs, Kisses, Tip-toe Kisses, and it's me writing, but he's coming home so why wouldn't there be a little angst?, but lots of sweetness, happiness, lots of fluff, season 7 spec, to be exact
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2019-06-19 22:18:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15519843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecomebackkids99/pseuds/thecomebackkids99
Summary: Oliver comes home after eight months of prison, and Felicity is forced to decide how to react to seeing her husband at her door.





	Love Him

**Author's Note:**

> Okay....I'm back. Barely. I have been super busy the past few months that I've barely had time to actually live, let alone write any fanfics, though I have been dying to churn something out. Because it has been a loooonnnnnnnnnnnngggg time. So my apologies about that. 
> 
> This was something that I wrote in about an hour, and though I have no idea how/what/when/where/why Oliver is going to be released, I hope it goes a little like this. Felicity's going to be mad (I would be, if I were his wife), but I hope she responds in love. And I hope that we all do. Sure, he kinda screwed up a bit, but we, as humans, in fiction and in real life, need to remember to love. 
> 
> No matter what.

“You’re … home.” Felicity stood at the door, hand grasping the wall for support. Because her legs screamed— _begged_ —to collapse, dropping her to the ground in a heap at her husband’s feet.

The man who stood in front of her wasn’t the man she married. Or the man she kissed goodbye one last time before Samanda Watson and her minions took him away. Or the man she dreamed of every night.

But he was still Oliver Queen.

His eyes finally met hers, but they weren’t the eyes she stared into almost every night for five years. They were still his, but they weren’t. They were of a haunted, damaged, hurt man.

The man she loved.

For eight months, she imagined what she would do. There was the frying pan that could do damage to his nose. She could slam the door in his face. Not let him sleep with her for a month. There was that anger that wrapped itself around her heart and held on for dear life, ever since that first night of being alone. He’d left her and William.

Alone.

Who cared about Diaz? They’d handled Malcolm Merlyn. Slade Wilson, though it helped that those two ended up turning to their side. They dealt with Ra’s a Gul and Damien Darhk, and then Adrian Chase happened upon them.

They handled him too.

So what made Diaz so important? It wasn’t like he was any different than the rest of them. He tried to wreck Oliver in every way possible, including hurt the ones he cared about the most.

So what made him different?

“Oliver.” Her voice cracked on that simple name. It was simple. Not extravagant like some of the men who roamed the world. But it was one short name that could completely undo her from the inside out. Turn her into a pile of goo. He could do that from the moment he introduced himself. “You’re … home.”

She should’ve known from the beginning. His family, the ones who he once tried to not let in, had grown. It used to be just a few people, but Moira and Thea turned into John and her. Laurel. Sara. Then Roy. Then they added the newbies into the mix. Then William.

Her husband had a knack for caring too much. Which was a good thing, most of the time. It meant if she felt sick, he made her breakfast in bed, massaged her feet, and took care of her computer work for three days.

It also meant that he did things to protect them.

And as stupid as it was, he did it to protect her.

 _Love him_.

Two words settled on her heart, perched there at the top as if they were begging to be done. To be used. Love. That’s what this broken man needed right now. He didn’t need the frying pan to his already damaged nose, he didn’t need another door slammed in his face. The guards had probably done that plenty in prison. He didn’t need a verbal beatdown.

He’d been given enough of those.

He didn’t need her to be angry. How many inmates were angry for putting them in that pit of misery?

 _Love him_. “Oliver.” She extended her hand, shaking under the weight of those two little words, caring so much meaning. So much difficulty. Her fingers splayed across his chest where Adrian Chase had done the most damage. His heart thumped against her palm, letting her know that her husband was alive. By some miracle.

“I’m …” Oliver licked dry lips. They needed Chapstick. “Lyla couldn’t really call, so we decided that I should just come and …”

“I, uh,” thank God William wasn’t home right now. “I didn’t even …” She looked at him. Through the eyes of love, not irritation, anger, or let-me-slap-you-with-a-frying-pan feelings. His hair was short. Al-Sahim-short that brought back memories of a sucky three weeks. And here she thought that was bad.

A new scar formed right above his eyebrow.

He’d lost weight. Not muscle, thank the good Lord.

The confident, I-can-do-this shoulders that used to be pulled back in a way that told bad guys and irritating people in general not to mess with him were slumped forward, caving in a way that made him look smaller.

For the first time, she didn’t feel so tiny.

She felt bigger than him.

 _Love him_.

“Can I kiss you?”

A breath, _almost_ a laugh, came out of him as he nodded.

She rose up on her tiptoes and settled her fingers on his scruff. And just looked at him. Their eyes connected, latched onto each other as if they’d never left. They really hadn’t. Just been separated for a period of time. That was what marriage was, right? No matter what, they were still together in their souls.

He moved closer, and met him the last ten percent. His lips were cracked, dying for some good bees wax, but it didn’t matter. It never did. It was the memory of those lips that kept her going every day, knowing that someday, she might get this opportunity again. To love him with her body, to curl into and treasure the firmness of his chest, to slide her hands through his hair, then drop them to his neck.

To never let go.

When he pulled away, there was a brightening in his eyes. Just a little, but enough for her to know that she’d heard her heart right.

Plus, it was clapping right now. In many, many ways.

“I’ve been dreaming about that.” She giggled as she lowered herself down to her normal height. It’d been eight months since she had to stand on her tiptoes. Workouts would need to be done.

“Me too.” He didn’t let go of his hold on her hips. Not that she wanted him to. His eyes wandered around the room behind her, then met hers again. “I’m sorry, Felicity. I’m so sorry.”

Now was not the time to tell him about her idea about the frying pan. Maybe not ever. At least until they got into one of those rip-roaring fights a year from now and she got mad enough to forget the whole ‘love him’ thing.

 _God …_ this man saved her countless times. Helped her learn to love herself. Taught her the ways of being a superhero. Traded his life for hers over and over again.

That was why he went to prison. Willingly. He traded his life for her and William, John, for the city, for the ones who told him he was trash. He loved them so much that he went to what could be deemed ‘hell’ by some, all because he wanted to protect them.

This was a man she could love for the rest of her life. Maybe not all the time, because they eventually needed to have a conversation about him not telling her about the deal with Samanda and all that, but he deserved her forgiveness, William’s adoration, John’s trust, and Rene, Dinah, and Curtis’ respect.

 He deserved their _love_.

“Y’know what?” Felicity opened the door wider and stepped back. “Come in. The house is a disaster because William hasn’t been home in a _whole day_ to clean it up for me, and dinner is definitely burning in the oven, but—”

“Felicity?” He took two steps into their place that really did look like a tornado went through it, but tears welled in his eyes as he looked around. His hand fumbled with hers as he enclosed her fingers in his own, but he pulled her close. Close enough that she could feel how hard he was trying not to sink to the floor and sob. Just close enough that she could see the tiny, but new scars that lined his arms. Whoever did this to him …

Well, they wouldn’t be getting out of prison anytime soon.

“I’ve missed you, Oliver. Every night. I know it was hell where you were, but …”

“I know.” He dropped his forehead to hers, his uneven breathing giving her nose warmth. “I know how it feels, and I’m sorry.”

“You’ve been forgiven. A hundred times over. So please stop apologizing.” She pressed her lips to his chin, then to his cheek. “There is nothing to apologize for. Eight months does a lot of things, and I had a lot of time to think. And right now,” oh, she loved this man. “I just care that you’re _home_.”

His smile widened, revealing that at least no one had knocked out his teeth. She missed him. Not just the physical gorgeousness that made her grouchy plenty of times during the time he was gone, but his soul.

He was the man who walked into her office carrying a computer that apparently had a latte spilled on it. Which basically meant he was a liar from the start. She trusted him anyway. Then he became her man in green, and she became the woman behind the keys, and the one in his ear.

Always.

He let her into a small locked box that stayed shut to almost everyone. The one that still beat underneath all that muscle, even after all of the pain that had been beaten into him. It’s what made him retreat into himself, why he decided not to consult her on the decision to save them and damn himself to hell, and it was the reason that so many people didn’t get him.

That pain—the memory of it—wouldn’t ever go away.

Which meant that it was up to her, as his wife, to help people understand him, to be the woman who guided him through danger using her computers, to make him laugh again, but most of all, to be his Felicity.

To love him.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it! If you did, leave a comment or a like! If you didn't, be on your way and find something else to read! No one needs negativity. 
> 
> Thank you for your patience in seeing fanfics being updated (*cough* Edelweiss *cough*)! I hope that I can do some writing this month, but finding my sanity, getting book proposals done, etc. are the priority right now. 
> 
> Have a nice day/night!


End file.
